


Where's the Beef

by UnclePotoos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Stuffing, Waiter McCree and Scion Hanzo, belly stuffing, restaurant AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnclePotoos/pseuds/UnclePotoos
Summary: After a familiar guest begins to request a bit more meat than most customers do, McCree begins to find himself enjoying indulging the man a bit too much.-a fic written for Moxie based on a prompt request-





	Where's the Beef

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written anything in a while, so why not use the time I had while waiting for a curry to finish cooking to write a stuffing fic? I did a bit of research on Churrasco restaurants for this fic, but please be lenient with me if I'm not accurate with some details. I've never gotten to visit such an establishment before, and also this is a fic I wrote way too late at night.
> 
> Please enjoy!

“Hey McCree, has table 12 been serviced yet?”

McCree looked up from where he’d been rearranging various supplies, trying to find the source of the voice. “Uh, I dunno sir. Been kinda busy with—“

“Well get out there and see if that table needs some service. Amari’s taking her break and I don’t have time to hunt her down and ask.”

McCree rolled his eyes and unceremoniously dropped the menus in his hand back down onto the counter. Fareeha was supposed to have let him know when she was about to clock out before she did. It wasn’t like this was typical of her to do, but it was still frustrating when it happened. She was always good to let him know whenever he forgot to do so.

“Alright, I’ll go see what the situation is…"

McCree didn’t wait much time in putting himself back together before stepping into the front of the restaurant. These rich types rarely had much in terms of patience, but they were the general clientele. Eventually Reyes would let him try out the line and give him a chance to escape the hell that was tending to the guests.

That day honestly couldn’t come soon enough.

As McCree walked out onto the floor, he quickly spotted table 12: a small two-seater booth on the far wall which was currently occupied with a single guest who was sternly examining a menu. The man seemed very well put together and incredibly well off, and that was coming from someone who was used to seeing rich-types on a daily basis. Either the man was of an even high class of disgustingly wealthy, or he was some idiot who was wasting the last of some god-sent fortune on a fine Brazilian dining experience. Regardless, the guest was unquestionably hot, and perhaps a little familiar? 

McCree shook the thought from his head as he approached, ready to put forth his best “customer voice” when the man held up his gloved hand silently without looking up. The simple gesture halted McCree in his tracks, leaving him stuck in his spot for a few extended moment while he watched the man continue to examine the options. There was an burning intensity to the stare that seemed out of place for a mere guest of the establishment, perhaps better suited for a more intimate setting away from open atmosphere of a restaurant. 

“I am not interested in hearing about whatever specials you're hosting today. If you believe it is good, bring it to my table. Pair it with whatever your chef believes best suits the flavor profiles.” The man finally looked up as he held up the menu to McCree, burning eyes now directed at him. "I don’t have a preference when it comes to wines, nor a budget, but I do have a preference for red meats, medium-rare temperature.”

McCree took a moment before taking the menu from the man, blinking in surprise at the direct and firm order. 

The guest spoke with an easy as if he were a regular customer, but McCree’d never see this man in the restaurant before. He’d recognize a face like that, no doubt. He also couldn’t be a critic of the area’s restaurants. While Reyes refused to admit it, he was certainly very “conscious” of the critic culture and in turn made McCree aware of all the big names and critics who had ever left remarks on the establishment or could potentially visit at some point. 

This man was none of the snobby critics he’d ever seen before, and the sharpness of the customer’s dress was too striking of a critic to don. Generally they came in typical dress code attire, hoping to fly under the radar in case they could fool the wait staff into thinking they were regular guests. That generally resulted in them sticking out even more, which of course wasn’t something they’d ever let the critics know about.

No, this man, here in well-tailored pinstripes, shimmery blue-scale and tightly cinched waistcoat, and black leather gloves was either trying to make a statement of his impeccable style or was just that dramatic. Considering the coolness of his order and the general intensity of his behavior, McCree figured this was just how this man was. Which probably meant he was positively  _ loaded _ , and could mean he’d get a huge tip if he attended to the man just exactly as he desired.

“Of course sir. I’ll bring you some of our popular hot dishes to start you off, and then begin to bring you some of our meats. Will that be acceptable?”

The man’s expression remained set in stone. “Do I need to repeat my earlier sentiments?”

McCree’s thought track skipped for a moment as he recalled what the man had just told him earlier. “‘Course not sir, I’ll return shortly with your starters.”

The man quietly huffed. “With haste.”

Unsure of what else to say, McCree turned about face and retreated to the kitchen, waiting until he was safely behind the divider door before letting out a confused laugh that had been building up ever since he walked up to the guest. As the laughter began to subside from his lip, one of the cooks looked over in his direction from the back of the kitchen. She evaluated him with a curious squint as she peered at him from the short distance.

“Jesse, you aren’t flirting with a critic again, are you?”

McCree snorted and waved a dismissive hand at the older woman. “Nah Chef, just got a weird customer’s all.”

The woman playfully scowled at him with her visible eye for a few moments before sighing and disappearing back behind a workstation, her voice still audible as the sound of food prep began to emit from that direction. “Whatever you say. Just don’t let Jack catch you call them “customers” again. You know how he hates that.”

“Yeh yeh Mom, thanks for havin’ my back. Hey, could you get me an order of garlic rice and a bowl’ve feijoada?”

The knife work continued as the woman continued to work. “Is this for an early dinner break that you shouldn’t be trying to sneak or is it for a paying guest?”

“Oh certainly I’m tryna sneak out like your daughter did on me earlier with some grub. You’ve caught me red handed.”

The woman peaked her head out again, only for a few moments to give McCree another scowl before vanishing again, likely to retrieve him the dishes requested. “Fareeha is not nearly as bad as you at remembering to relay to the rest of the wait staff that she is taking a break. You, on the other hand, are a disaster.”

“Maybe, but I’m still one of your best.” McCree flashed a dazzling smile in the general direction of the chef, even though the shelving between them made it impossible for her to see him. A line cook nearby caught his eye, and McCree instinctually winked at the man as he caught his attention. The poor man’s cheeks reddened slightly as he turned back to his work, not paying McCree much attention but certainly showing in his flustered demeanor that he’d left his mark.

“You may be fantastic in the front, but you’re practically a ghost in the back whenever you’re needed. That’s why Fareeha is the favorite.”

“Oh come on Ana, what happened to not havin’ a favorite kid?”

The woman, Ana, reappeared from behind the workstation with two bowls of steaming food. The smug grin on her face with plenty evident as she set the food down before McCree on the exchange shelf. “You know I’m only teasing, Jesse.”

McCree rolled his eyes, but a warm smile still spread across his lips. “Yeh, I know.”

Ana smiled back and gently pushed the dishes closer. “Now go. I know it’s a slow night, but you’ve still got to work before you can reasonably start relaxing your pace.”

McCree reached out and grabbed the bowls, arranging them onto his serving tray before hoisting it up into his arms and beginning to retreat from the kitchen. “Understood Chef.”

Back out into the front house, the place seemed even less busy than it was before. This wasn’t immensely surprising being that is was a fairly generic Tuesday night, but the lack of bodies in the space was certainly unusual. It wasn’t unwelcomed by McCree though. It was nice to finally have an evening to relax a bit and focus on only a couple customers instead of dealing with a packed house on a weekday.

“Sorry for the wait, sir. We’re havin’ a bit of a slow night in the kitchen this evening.” McCree knew the words were a lie the moment they came from his lips, but they were a well practiced line he’d come to use whenever he wanted to gauge just how a guest would deal with potentially wait times for their food. The man, however, didn’t give much reaction as he looked down at the dishes. “Is somethin’ the matter, sir?”

“Yes, I believe I requested my food to be paired with something, and yet I am here with no drink.”

McCree blinked for a moment, perplexed, before realizing his error. “Oh shoot, that’s my bad. I’ll be right back with your drink, sir.”

As be began to turn away, McCree paused his leave and came back to the table. “Sorry I’ll get your drink in just a moment, but I was curious if you’d like me to address you by somethin’ while I serve you this evening? Perhaps a name, or maybe some fancy title you’d like me to come up for ya?”

For the first time, the stern expression on the man’s face changed, hinting at the barest of smirks that McCree could only barely notice with his keen eye. “I believe ‘sir’ will do just fine.”

The way the words rolled of the man’s tongue sent honest-to-god shivers up McCree’s spine, and only the good kinda shivers. He wasn’t even sure if he gave any sort of intelligent response by the time he arrived at the wine rack, all he knew was that he potentially had a new angle to play this guest for a big tip and that things would be interesting if the man continued to surprise him with more moment of irresistible charm like that. Thankfully, McCree’s hand fell on a bottle of Malbec by the time his sudden mental haze cleared, and he was able to return to the table with a glass of it without having to chill himself off enough to function like man who didn’t just get hella swooned.

“Once again, I apologize for the wait, sir,” McCree said as he set down the glass next to the bowl of stew that, surprisingly, was already partially empty. Had he been back there at the wine rack for longer than he thought?

The man finished his mouthful before giving a response, gently dabbing at the corners of his lips with a napkin. “It is quite alright. As long as what you bring me is satisfactory, I do not mind the wait.”

“Well I certainly don’t intend to keep ya waitin’ long. Speakin’ which, I can start bringin’ you out some of our meats once you finish with these ones, if that sounds good to you?”

“Actually,” the man said after a pregnant pause. “Would you mind bringing some out now? I don’t mind there being a few excess plates on my table throughout the course of the meal.”

“Uh, sure, that won’t be a problem. I… guess I’ll be right back then.”

McCree returned to the kitchen once again, perplexed as before by the guest’s unusual dining behaviors. He likely just didn’t anticipate how long it would take for McCree to fetch one of the meat skewers, which honestly only took a minute or two of McCree was determined to make quick rounds about the tables. Since the man likely would need a few minutes to tuck into the stew and rice, he took his time, looking at the meat they currently had rotating in the cookers and deciding what kind of course of action would be best for a handsome clientele like table 12.

After prepping and carrying out a skewer of tri-tip, McCree was shocked to find the guest waiting patiently at his table with calmed clasped hands, an empty glass, and two clean bowls. He wasn’t about to say something to potentially offend the man, so he chose to ignore the dishes and began to introduce the next course. His description of the meat and its finer details were either lost on the man, or were deeply cherished as he seemed to carefully examine the skewer in McCree’s hands. It was a rather odd reaction, but it was nothing McCree couldn’t handle.

“I’ll cut you as much as you’d like to start until you request me to stop, alright sir?” The man nodded, slowly and even as he continued to examine the meat, eyes now flicking between the skewer and the large knife in McCree’s hand. His technique was well practiced at this point, cutting into the tri-tip with a smooth ease that didn’t irritate the meat and accidentally make it bleed out its juices. He was very proud of how well he’d improved his knifework over the past few years.

McCree’d almost gotten lost in his thoughts when he began to realize that he was cutting a fairly large portion of meat for the guest, especially for a first portion. He paused his knife in the middle of a cut, looking down at the man with a flustered expression. He was about to say something, but was cut off as the man spoke first. “I don’t believe I requested you to stop yet.”

“Uh… no, no you didn’t. My apologies again.” McCree refused his slicing, keeping his pace slow and attentive on his strange guest. There wasn’t anything in terms of a limit to how much a guest was allowed to order, but the meat just kept piling up on the plate. By the time the man told him to stop, there was well over a pound of steak there, maybe even two pounds. Perhaps this man just didn’t quite understand how this type of restaurant worked. “Um, have you been made aware of our ‘no takeout’ policy?”

The man barely seemed to acknowledge him as he already began tucking a napkin into his collar. “Yes, I read it in your menu; your guidelines here are quite clear. When can I expect you to bring me another?”

“Oh, um, whenever you finish up with our tri-tip. I don’t wanna overwhelm you with too many things at once now.” McCree chuckled, mostly out of awkwardness since he wasn’t really sure what to say to the man who about to dine on enough meat for several people and acting as if it was only a sample. He certainly had a well-muscled and built body so packing on a lot of protein was probably normal in his diet, but this was pushing it. Especially with such a trim little waist he had and a tight waist coat to accentuate it, there didn’t seem like much room for excess.

“I won’t be long. Don’t keep me waiting, Jesse.” 

McCree blinking in surprise, taken aback by the usage of his name along with the purl it was said with. “How’d you… know my name?”

The guest pointed at his chest with a fork in hand, then stabbed it into a loose piece in the pile. “Your name tag gave it away.”

“Oh, of course, sir. I guess I’ll be back shortly.”

As McCree began to leave, the guest was already diving into his meal. While he’d basically requested him to bring out the next as soon as possible, McCree took his time, lingering at the meat rack and sampling a slice of the meat as he waited. The tri-tip was good tonight, and the pork tenderloin he was planning to bring out next was also marvelous.

As he chewed on the pork, McCree thought back to the shiver he’d felt when the man had requested him to call him “sir”. The way he said it, it was almost like he was calling upon a private bit of knowledge they’d once shared, but something he’d forgotten about over time. The man had seemed just barely familiar, but McCree’d just passed it off as that familiar sensation one gets when seeing someone impossibly handsome but can’t remember which celebrity they are. He was probably just some guest who likely to toy with his wait staff.

When McCree cleared up his distracted thoughts, he freed the tenderloin skewer from the rack and began to bring it out to the front house. As he approached, he found himself faced with a rather annoyed looking customer, arms folded against his chest and foot gently tapping as he looked off to the window in the front of the space. McCree glanced down at the table and, to his surprise, the meat platter that’d previously been overflowing with tri-tip was as clean as the other bowls were.

“Ah, you’re back. What kept you waiting?” The guest’s tone was lined with a bite that was probably not appropriate to use on a waiter who’d only been gone a short while, but McCree wasn’t about to argue with him since he technically did dick around a bit before coming back out.

“Nothing, it just took me a lil while to get this baby out. You know the drill now, just lemme know when I’ve given you enough, and there’s plenty more meats after this for you to try later…”

Once again, McCree found himself cutting into the meat for way longer than he normally would a regular guest. By the time he requested McCree to stop, there was about as much meat on his plate as there was before. It was honestly a shocking thought that this man was going to continue such a rate of consumption, but McCree was dangerously intrigued to see how well this man could keep up such a pace.

“I’ll be back shortly with some picanha. It’s one of my favorites, so you better have some room after this for it.”

The guest was already cutting into the meat, bringing the bite up to his lips and looking over to catch McCree’s eye. “I’m well aware of what I’m capable of.” Without breaking eye contact, the guest gently parted his lips and pushed the bite into his mouth, slowly pulling the fork away and licking his lip with a seductive tease that made McCree’s spine shiver into attention. He quickly turned around and retreated into the kitchen, immediately trying to locate one of the fans to try and cool himself off.

The guest was scarily hot. McCree’s had plenty of guests flirt with him before, this was nothing new, but something about this guy just got him in all the right places. The worst part of it was, it felt almost familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d heard that gorgeous purr before, or seen that tongue playfully wreck his composure. Either way, this evening was fucking weird, and at this point McCree mostly just wanted to find some kind of handle on the whole situation that he could grab onto.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything. As McCree continued to bring the man out various meats, he continued to be easily teased and toyed with as he kept serving him hefty piles of steak, pork, lamb, beef. After a while, McCree stopped keeping track of how much he was giving the guy. He just seemed to vacuum it up while McCree was gone. Normally he’d say that the customer was probably stealing some in a container in their bag, but this man didn’t appear to have anything with him besides the clothing on his back.

When McCree brought out the tenderloin again, he was finally meet with the customer still in the middle of his plate of lamb leg. The way he chewed the meat was slow and labored, and as McCree approached, he could hear the man’s breathing, low and shallow as he ate. When he swallowed, he let out a quiet groan that definitely didn’t sound like a man  _ just _ eating some lamb. Apparently there was nothing this man did that wasn’t powerfully seductive.

“Well sir, it seems I’ve finally caught you enjoying the meal!” As McCree interrupted the guest’s moment, his eyes caught on the shimmery flash of his waist coat. Unlike before, the garment was no longer wrapped somewhat loosely around the man’s trim waist. Instead, the fabric was pulled taught around a very round and very full looking gut. The buttons seemed to be beginning to strain, and McCree had to suppress the desire to ask the man if he wanted to unbutton himself a bit.

“It appears so. Your lamb is quite well done; please send my regards to your chef.”

“She’ll be happy to hear that, sir. I’m assuming you’d like me to slice you some more pork while you finish it up?”

“Certainly.” The guest immediately got back into his lamb, sliding a generous bite of the meat into his mouth as slicing of pork began to fill another plate next to it. 

The plates on the man’s table were really starting to pile up now, and the swollen size of his gut was a testament to them. If he continued such a pace much longer, he’s probably have a hard time fitting himself out of the booth. McCree admired such a refined display of gluttony though, and if the circumstances were different, say he were on a date with the man instead of serving him, he’d be tempted to invite the man back to his place to indulge him even more.

McCree took a bit more time before returning with the tri-tip he’d started the meal with, wanting to give the man  _ plenty _ of time to finish up both the lamb and the pork. When he returned, his breath caught in his throat as he found the guest laying back in the booth, eyes closed as he slowly rubbed his hands against the impressive globe that his gut had become. It was a shameless display, and McCree was shamelessly enjoying it as he took it in for a few moments before approaching.

“‘Ave I caught you at a bad time, sir?” The question was ladened with a teasing smirk, but the man barely seemed to register him as he breathed slowly and heavily, still nursing his likely sore gut.

“No, I’m fine.” His eyes opened and slowly looked over McCree, examining him carefully. “Do I have to remind you again what your job is?”

“Of course not, sir. Just wanted to make sure you were still with us before I spoiled you some more.”

“Spoiled me?” McCree didn’t look over at him as he began to cut into the meat. “If you consider giving me what I paid for ‘spoiling me’, then you are in great need of someone to show you exactly what it means to properly ‘spoil’ someone.”

“Oh, is that so now?”

_ “Yes.” _ The low purr in which the man answer made McCree’s grip on his knife loose for a moment, but his hold on it remained firm. “After you return this to the kitchen, return to me immediately. I will show you what it means to spoil someone.”

Typically, McCree at the point would ignore his guest and request someone else take up serving him. But god, this guy was hot, and he’d be lying if he didn’t say he was extremely intrigued to find out what this man had in store. When he’d finished refilling the man’s plate, McCree retreated to the kitchen to quickly wipe down his face with a cold cloth before returning empty handed to the table. The guest had barely tucked into the meat, his chewing even slower and more labored than before.

“Well, we’d you have in mind, sir?”

The guest looked up at him, an empty fork in one hand and the other slowly massaging the side of his gut. “Here, sit next to me.”

McCree paused a moment before trying to fit himself into the booth. They were already designed to accommodate a single person, and the man’s new gut apparently made it a bit difficult for him to scoot in more. They eventually made something work, mostly with McCree’s long legs sticking out awkwardly from under the table. The man’s gut now was pressing into his side, incredibly warm through the various layers of fabric and impressively solid.

“Here, now rub me.”

McCree’s brain broke for a few moments as he head snapped over to look at the man, who’d resumed eating. “I beg your pardon??”

The guest looked over with a bored expression. Rolling his eyes after a moment, he set down his fork and reached over, grabbing McCree’s hand and placing it onto his gut. It was incredible to see his hand look so small in comparison to such a large belly. It was like the man was due to birth a meat baby with how swollen he was. The fact that his waist coat was still holding up was nearly unbelievable. McCree wondered just how much bigger the man’s gut would be if those buttons all suddenly just snapped off--

“Jesse.”

McCree blinked as his thoughts suddenly flew away. “Y-yes sir?”

“Just that isn’t doing me much good. Now rub me.”

“Of course….”

McCree began to slowly massage his hand in gentle circle, carefully watching the man and trying to gauge where he most needed some relief. It was easy to settle into the moment, McCree spacing out as the pleasant warmth of the man’s way overstuffed gut pulsed and shivered under his touch. This was without a doubt inappropriate work conduct for him to be engaging in, but he wouldn’t do it for long. Hopefully no one would catch him. He’d get in so much trouble for this.

He snapped out of his hazy thoughts when a deep moan spilled out of the man’s lips as he pressed a bit harder than usual against the top of his belly. The sound was like honey to his ears, and for a spilt second, McCree was taken back to a night about a year ago in the back of a dimly-lit bar when he found himself a wonderfully horny patron to spend a little time with. Lips crashed against his own, hands wandering into places that definitely weren’t appropriate for a public venue but  _ fuck _ if that didn’t make the moment even hotter. A well endowned crotch rutting against his beefy thigh, and that dangerously sweet moan tricking into his ear, cutting through the thumping base of whatever over-computerized pop song was blaring on the loudspeakers. 

He never got the man’s name, or was ever able to make out his face or voice well, but McCree could recognize that moan anywhere. He certainly never expected to hear it again here, at his work spilling out of a guest who was well on his way to both ruining his waist coat and McCree’s entire composure. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind either, but he’d prefer it in a more private and intimate setting.

“You know,” McCree said as Hanzo lended his gut as best he could into McCree’s touch as he swallowed another bite of tri-tip. “I get off my shift in a few hours.”

Hanzo looked over at him curiously, setting down his fork and placing his hands on the sides of his gut. He began to rub gentle circles into it, groaning softly as he did. “Is that so?”

“It is.” McCree slide his hand down the front of Hanzo’s belly, having to remove it for a moment to slip it under the table to get at the swollen underbelly that was underappreciated. The guest’s gut had now exceeded the space between the booth and the table, and the wood surface was beginning to cut into him. While that couldn’t be comfortable for him, it was certainly a sight to behold for McCree. He could barely lift the man’s gut like this, but the attempt certainly seemed to please the guest as a moan of pleasure tumbled out of him. “If you think you’ve got some more room in here, I can keep serving you for as long as you’d like, and then maybe we could do back to may place for a bit more ‘spoiling training’?”

The man took a long breath before giving a response, seeming in deep thought as he mulled over the statement. “If you can make the buttons of my clothing give out before your shift is done, I shall pay you whatever your monthly wage is to leave immediately.”

Now was McCree’s turn to groan. “You’ve got a deal, sir.”

The man nodded, preparing another bite of meat. “Call me Hanzo.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this! You can find me on tumblr at unclepotoos if you'd like to hmu. I'm always down to take writing prompts.


End file.
